Thanksgiving was originally celebrated in New England when European settlers were helped by Indians to raise native crops that helped the settlers to survive the harsh winter of this region. Two white American friends of mine decided to remember the original spirit of Thanksgiving this season by inviting Indians for dinner, and we responded in style. Two carloads of us joined Melody and Chris, invited by the prospect of a truckload of yummy food. The duo had made so much food that I (a foodie) ended up trying more new varieties of food in one day than I have done in the last two years. Mel (who was the chef) amazed me with her ability to make such a range of foods with equal dexterity.

The quantity of food prepared became apparent to me when in my spirit of thanksgiving I took over as the official dish washer of the event with Ms. S as the dryer. The washer-dryer combination had at least 1.5 hours of intense work, entertained in the meanwhile by some dancers who had taken over the floor. As the dancing went on, I was doing my thanksgiving in another way. After a long time, I was in a party that involved dancing in which another Ms S was not present. This Ms. S is a dance fundamentalist, the kind who believes that dancing is good and everyone must dance. And she tries to get everyone to do it with all her powers ranging from a seductive “I’ll dance with you” to a threatening “I won’t talk with you again if you don’t dance”. It was a thanksgiving par excellence: chauffer driven to dinner, served sumptuous food, entertained and left alone J I should remember this for a long time to come.